Your touch, it winds inside me, the winding ceases only when you finally move away from me, when you cease to rest your small innocent body on mine.
Your small and sticky hands on my face, on my mouth, on my cheeks, sparks deep and boiling rage so I bark at you, “please get out of my face”.
All you want is to be with me.
My relief when you back away is always surprising me, guilting me, stabbing me in the back.
Your touch is uninvited and it leaves me on tender ground.
My need to be away, to run and hide is dividing my heart because I am your mother, I love you, I have as much need to be with you as you with me.
But your touch is unnerving, and so I wind, closer and closer to breaking but you are a child, my child and can’t understand that with each touch you are playing with fire.
But you can not know how it makes me feel, and you don’t have to.
And so it winds.
My body pains for escape, it panics as I see your little hands seeking me out.
My body, it begs for relief, it needs to hide, but it is still not your fault, because I am your mother.
I check out, I check out some days and I crush myself by knowing it, knowing how that feels because I too felt it once.
I crush myself with guilt. With regret, because I don’t know how to escape the feeling, how to stop the winding. Regret because I fear I am damaging you, and if I do that, I can’t take it back.
It still winds inside even after I know how my pushing you away makes you feel.
I can see it in your eyes, I am dimming your light each time, each day I say “please just get away from me, please just get off me, please just leave me alone”.
But your constant touch when I am in the darker place reminds me of every time I lie there as a girl, cuddled up to the cold wall, resisting, and twisting away from his touch.
How I lied there because I have again given up fighting him, my mind disappearing at the touch of someone who only wanted to hurt me.
A time where I didn’t know I could say…….. “no”.
And saying no to you now, years later to someone who loves me so much, makes me hurt because you do not want to hurt me, you want nothing but to love and to receive love from me, yet even your uninvited touch reminds me of nothing that it should.
Your uninvited touch, winds me.
And lately I am wound almost too far.
Yet there you sit, forcefully grabbing, nudging and poking at my body, a body that has already been wound more than it should have been.
A body that has had enough.
But I can’t tell you this, you wouldn’t understand and I could never expect you to.
So I sit wound, just sitting through this daily wind, waiting for my insides to finally snap.
And I am so sorry.
*Image is not mine, image found Via This Article on how childhood sexual abuse affects brain function.